Be present

Another post I wrote, but never published. This one from 5/18/11 at 12:05 AM ---------------------------- Eight years ago, a counselor suggested that I read, "Wherever you go, there you are," by Jon Kabat-Zinn to help me reduce my stress level.



Now, I'm the kind of girl who has two speeds: Turbo and sleep. It's not a super healthy way to live but for most of my life - with the exception, I would suspect, of when I hadn't started crawling - I lived it in this way.



So, at the advice of my counselor, I read the book. Then I read it again. And then I read it again.



I didn't understand a lick of it.



"Wherever you go, there you are" is a book about being present. Who can be present when you are either moving at the speed of light or comatose? My being was completely wrapped up in titles, jobs and doings. What was my title at this job or that? What kind of job did I have? What did the outside see and think of me when I was a teacher, journalist, and even a daughter and mom? Most importantly, was I doing such an amazing job in these roles that I was indispensable?



This is how I measured my life.



A few weeks ago I left a job that I loved. I just up and quit. After 20+ years of working my ass off to move up in titles, jobs and doings, I had enough.



And I owe it all to a person who I would never want to be.



Without getting into specifics, I'll just say that I purposefully chose to walk away from toxicity.



Let me tell you something. I've been "being" for three weeks now. No title (unless you count trophy wife), no job so to speak (and I do not believe being a parent, wife or daughter is a job - it is a privledge),

and no particular need to "do" anything.



Guess what!?



There is a speed between turbo and sleep! And it is euphoric! I don't even know if you could call it a speed - because it is just a being. It is the "wherever you go, there you are" speed.

Walks with Mollie

I actually wrote this post at least 8 years ago, but hadn't published it. Mollie is now in puppy heaven. I miss her every day. A while back, I wasn't working outside the home. The part I loved most about being home was my morning walks with Mollie - our golden doodle.

Once the kids and husband were out the door, Mollie and I would take a 2-mile walk around the neighborhood. She loved it. I loved it. Toward the end of our morning journey, we'd make a pitstop at my parent's house (Mollie knew the spot well - about a block away, she'd start looking at me questioningly as if to ask, "We ARE going to stop, right?) We'd always stop. My mom would make me her "special coffee" and she, I and my dad would visit for a half-hour. Mollie would get a bowl of water and lots of lovin', and then we went on our way back home.

The freedom to take a leisurely walk each morning with a creature that found joy in every step down to her doggie soul was such a blissful feeling. I didn't worry about anything. I didn't think about anything troublesome.  I let my ADD mind jump aimlessly from one thought to another - how cute Ethan looked when he hopped out of the car to go to school, the funny thing Zayd said, how much I loved Paul, how big Zach had gotten, and how thoughtful Evan had been -- dotted with thoughts like, "The sun feels great, the air smells so energizing, I can't wait to have my mom's special coffee and I wonder if I should try knitting?"

I loved it. But I had this nagging feeling that I shouldn't. I should have a career shouldn't I? I should contribute to the family income, shouldn't I? I should set a good example for my children by being an empowered and upwardly mobile working woman, shouldn't I?

I should.

I took a job. And what a primo job it was! Challenging, lots of responsibility, diverse, educational, great colleagues, an excellent career move and good pay and benefits.

For a year, each weekday morning I said goodbye to Mollie. At first, she would get excited as she watched me put on my shoes and coat - thinking "We are going for our walk!" Then, after a while, she would stand about four feet from the doorway and look at me with the saddest look - knowing there would be no walk, and she would be alone all day.

I too would leave thinking -- No walk. Just a cubicle with no windows, no energizing fresh air, no wandering thoughts, no special coffee, no chats with my parents and no Mollie.

I quit almost a year to the day I started.

I am very happy.

So is Mollie.

Hello again!

After the last post on Najmania featuring my boys - I realized that I couldn't share the conversations I had with them with all of you anymore. I needed to keep those conversations private - not that it wasn't hard to keep away from typing them up! (I really should have at least typed them up for myself). 

So... hello again!

The boys have grown up! They are now 28 (married), 25, 23 and 20. We are living now in Colorado...

AND... get this...

Three of the four boys are here with us! Not like living with us, but within 10 minutes of us. 

WHAT?!?!

I know. According to my mother, I have controlled their minds and their lives. (IF ONLY).

According to one of our boys of whom shall remain unnamed...

"We like being around you guys."

OH. MY. GOD.

WIN WIN for parenting! 

And we really like being around them!

Anyway - the hubby, Paul, (you remember Paul?) and I just moved into our new house (well not a "new new" house - but new to us) about three weeks ago. I've learned a few things about myself in that time...

1. I do not know how to be content. I wasn't taught that concept.

2. I am a nester. I need to have my house feel like my home before I can move onto anything else... and

3. I fixate on things I don't like.

Oh... and BIG NEWS! I was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD. 

I mean, knowing that at 55 is great, however, that might have been helpful to know when I was like... 10. It explains a lot. 

Okay. So, I decided I'm going to write again for anyone out there in the cyber universe who is interested in hearing from another 55-year-old woman. 

I might talk about my ADHD, or being 55, or my house and my plans for it, or occasionally about my family (without naming names, of course). Or I may talk about being raised by two narcissists! It's all game!

Stay tuned...

What's Italy?

Some random comments from the boys when Paul and I announced that we were taking everyone to Italy:

ETHAN

Ethan: Are there roller coasters there?

Me: No.

Ethan: Is there a waterpark?

Me: Ahhh.... no.

Ethan: Will our hotel have a pool?

Me: No.

Ethan: Well WHAT the heck are we going to DO there?

ZAYD

Zayd: Uh... I don't know how I feel about going somewhere where everything is in a different language.

Me: It will be cool! We'll learn some Italian and there will be people who speak English.

Zayd: We won't learn enough Italian.

Me: We'll learn enough to get by. Between that and acting things out, we will be fine.

Zayd: But EVERYTHING will be in Italian. Even the menus!

Me: Think of it as an adventure.

(Pause)

Zayd: I hate adventures.

EVAN

Evan: But we have to fly over the ocean.

Me: Yes. We can't get around that.

Evan: I don't know if I like that.

Me: Well... if you want to go to Italy you'll need to fly over the ocean. We aren't taking a ship.

Evan: It kinda creeps me out. Just out there with nothing but ocean. I mean - what if we crash.

(Pause)

Me: Well, think of it this way - if we crash into the ocean, it will be a lot softer than if we crash into the ground.

Evan: Thanks mom. That helps.

ZACH

Zach: Huh. Cool.

(Pause)

Zach: I'm going over to Jake's house now, k?

How 3 fits into 1 and 2

It was on a summer-night drive to Culver's -- just me and my four boys -- that I learned some things:

1. They talk to each other a lot
2. They talk about a wide variety of topics
3. Their youngest brother is highly influenced by them

I was so excited about 1 and 2. I mean, here are my boys... and they talk to each other! I've always told them that it's important for them to be there for each other as they grow up.

But then there's 3.

I hadn't really considered how 3 fits in with 1 and 2.

(pause)

I mean I've got Zach who is now 17, Evan 14, Zayd 12... and then Ethan 9.

Yeah.

(pause)

So on this drive to Culver's I learned how 3 fits into 1 and 2.

Zach: (addressing his three brothers) Yeah. You aren't really a man until you've done it.

Zayd: Oh my God. Are you serious? I don't know if I want to.

Zach: Then you're not a man.

Evan: I'm a man.

Zayd: You've done that!?

Evan: Yeah. Once. It was okay.

Ethan: It sounds fun!

Let's review:
Not a man until you've done it. Zach has done it. Evan has done it. Zayd isn't sure about doing it and Ethan thinks it sounds fun.

Me: Uh... what are we talking about.

Zach: Mom. Man stuff. We're talking about man stuff.

Evan: Yeah mom. Man stuff. You don't really want to know.

Yeah. I kinda do.

Me: Uh... yeah. If Ethan thinks it sounds fun and it is a man thing - I kinda do want to know.

(pause)

Zach: Sleeping in the buff mom.

(pause)

Here's where I go blank.

Zach: So freeing. Amazing.

Zayd: So just sleeping with everything just kinda hanging out there?

Zach: Yeah. It's awesome.

Me: You sleep in the nude.

Zach: Yeah. A lot of the time.

(pause)

Zach: Why do you think I lock my door.

Actually I had several theories about that... but... whatever

Ethan: I'm going to do it! Tonight!

Zach: Do it Ethan. Do it. Be a man.

Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! I don't want to sleep with you in our room when you are naked!

Zach: It's not like you are sleeping in the same bed.

Zayd: I know, but ... Oh my God (he starts laughing again).

Ethan: I'm serious, I'm going to do it.

(pause)

Ethan: Can I mom? Can I do it?

As if I have a say.

Me: I guess so.

Ethan: Awesome!

Everyone cheers

Okay, except me. I do not cheer.

Ethan: And... I'm going to wear my Angry Birds hat!

Everyone cheers louder.

OMG.

At bedtime, I'm reading in my room and I hear a lot of screams, laughing, teasing and general loudness coming from the hallway. Things like:

"Oh my God!"
"You da man!"
"Get that away from me!"
"I'm clean!"
"Mom! When are you going to put me to bed!"

After a while - quite a while. It settles down and its quiet.

I walk do my nightly ritual of walking into everyone's room to give them a good-night kiss and back rub...

Well, not Zach's.

I walk into Ethan and Zayd's room...

And there is my little precious Ethan fast asleep.

Naked.

With his Angry Birds hat on.

Number 4

I thought having three sons would prepare me for son number four.

I was wrong.

Very. Very. Wrong.

Last night, as I was putting him to bed, I smelled a strong odor of urine.

Me: Ethan? Did you have an accident in your bed?

Ethan: No.

Me: It's okay if you did. You just need to tell us. We won't get upset. But I don't want you to sleep in stinky sheets.


pause

Ethan: Welllll...... maybe.

Me: Okay - well, let's get up and I'll make your bed all fresh!

I pull off the sheets, and wipe down the plastic mattress protector with some wipes, and start putting on new sheets.... and all the while talking...

Me: You know it's okay to have accidents. But you really need to let us know, okay?

pause

Ethan: Uhm... mom? Could the pee have run down the side of the bed?

I stop.
I turn.
I look at him.

Now... let me backtrack to two days ago when Paul and I learned that Ethan had peed in the garbage can in the laundry room - where we put all the lint, candy bar wrappers, and other stuff we find in pockets...


Ethan had chosen to pee in the garbage can because, as he put it, "He couldn't make it to the toilet," which happens to be right around the corner...


Instead, it took Paul three days to discover that the strong urine odor was coming from the garbage can... the small pool of liquid at the bottom cinched his investigation.

Me: Why would it run down the side of your bed?

pause

Ethan: I don't know.

pause

Me: Ethan. Did you pee on the carpet?

Ethan: No!

I bend over and smell the carpet. Nope - nothing.


I turn a bit and notice an "under the bed" plastic storage container sitting on the floor.

Me: Ethan? Did you pee in the container?

Ethan: Nooooo.....

I'm still standing in one place, but looking around and wondering... 


...and then it hits me.


The container is covering the heating vent.


No. No. Way.


I pull the container away, exposing the closed white vent.

Me: Ethan? Did you pee in this?

pause

Ethan: I don't know.

pause

Me: Ethan. You need to tell me the truth. Did you pee in this?

pause

Ethan: Maybe.

HE. DID. NOT.

I lean over and smell the vent. 


Yup. He peed on the vent.


But I didn't notice any stains on the white vent... 


Oh. My. God.


I pulled the vent up and smelled inside the vent.


YUP. He peed IN THE VENT AND DOWN THE VENT.

Me: Ethan? Did you pee down this?

Ethan: Are you going to get mad?

Me: Answer my question.

Ethan: Yes.

Me: You pulled this cover off and you peed down this hole?

Ethan: Yes.


I stare at him for a moment, then get up and walk out - looking for his father... who I find in the kitchen downstairs. Paul asks me what I said to Ethan.

Me: I didn't say anything - I was too grossed out to say anything.

Paul: Well you need to get after him.

Me: Where do I being! He PEED DOWN OUR VENT! GROSS.

Paul: You need to tell him that isn't okay.

Ugh. Excuse me for being a little overwhelmed by this - I mean, how in the world do you begin to tell an EIGHT-YEAR-OLD that he shouldn't pee down your heating duct?! Should I be having this conversations AT ALL?


I get back upstairs and begin my lecture.


Me: Ethan. Pee is poison. Your pee is poison. Everyone's pee is poison. It is all the yucky stuff that your body cannot use - so it gets rid of it as pee. So, you put poison in the heating duct... and now, the air that come through this pipe to heat your room is going to smell like pee - which is poison - and is harmful to smell! You don't PEE in here! We pee in the toilet. We don't pee in the garbage can, or on the carpet, or in a bottle (that's another story), or anywhere in the house EXCEPT for the toilet!


pause

Me: Do you understand?


He has the slightest hint of a grin... just the slightest... and that throws me over the edge.

Me: ETHAN! This is not funny! If you EVER EVER pee in anything in our house besides the TOILET, you... you... YOU.... are going to be grounded for the rest of your LIFE!

Now he looks scared.


Good.


I stomp out of his bedroom and into mine where I find my husband and my oldest son laughing their butts off.

Me: Stop it. If he hears you laughing he'll do it again!

Zachary: Oh my God. That is amazing. Where does he come up with this stuff?

I don't know. But clearly our other three sons have ill-prepared us for EPIC son number four.

It's pencil... not penis

Ethan had to stay after school yesterday.

According to his third grade teacher, he had a rough day which translates into, "His was being a little shit."

This morning he showed me his "Behavior Correction Sheet."

Ethan: You have to sign it.

Me: Okay - let me read it first.

I read aloud:  I was flinging... peee...nn. Pee..nni... Pee...niisses. I was flinging penises at Christian. What? You were flinging PENISES at him! ETHAN! What are you doing?

Zayd was standing next to me reading and starts laughing.

Zayd: Oh my God Ethan! How do you fling your penis at him!

Not to mention I was unaware Ethan had more than one.

Ethan: NO! No! I didn't do that! I was flinging my PENCILS at him! God!

Me: Well it says PENISES here!

pause

Ethan: Oh.

Me: Holy cow Ethan. You can't spell penis when you want to spell it, and now you are spelling penis for everything else!

Ethan: I'm sorry! I didn't know how to spell pencil!

Me: So we spell PENIS instead?

Zayd: Well, we did teach him how to spell penis yesterday.

pause

Damn, I say to myself. That's right.

Penes

When Zayd got home from school, he sat at the family computer and opened up his gmail. Then, he spun around to face me, and started chuckling.

Zayd: (mumbles and chuckles)

Me: Huh?

Zayd: Are you going to get mad at Ethan?

Me: Why?

Zayd: Come and see what he sent me.

I look over Zayd's shoulder and see an opened message with "(no subject)" from Ethan. In the text box is one word:

"penes"

I stare at the screen for a moment.

Zayd starts chuckling again.

Zayd: Are you going to get mad at him?

Me: Why would he do that?

Zayd: (laughing) I don't know! He didn't even spell it right!

Me: Yeah, but why would he do that?

Zayd: (still laughing) He thinks it is funny!

pause

Zayd: You're mad.

I walk over to the basement door, open it, and yell down the stairs.

Me: Eeeethhhaaan!

Ethan: What!

Me: Come here please.

He appears from the basement.

Ethan: What did I do?

Me: Just come up here for a moment. Zayd, will you show him the message.

Zayd: Ooops. I deleted it.

Me: (sigh)

Zayd: Wait! Wait! Shoot! I didn't want to delete it! Let me see if I can find it!

Me: Never mind. Just tell him about the message you got from him.

Zayd: Ethan? (he gets the giggles again). Why did you send me a message that said penis?

Ethan tries to hide his guilt by acting like he has no idea what we are talking about.

Zayd: You didn't even spell it right!

Ethan: It was just a joke.

Me: What if you had mistakenly sent it to grandma?

He looks at me shocked. Clearly, that hadn't crossed his mind. He starts to walk sheepishly toward the basement steps.

Me: Ethan! And you spelled penis wrong! Do you know how to spell it?

Ethan: (stops and turns around looking embarrassed) Don't tell me how to spell it!

Zayd: It's spelled p-e-n-i-s. Not p-e-n-e-s.

Me: Okay?


He starts heading down the stairs.

pause

I yell after him.

Me: If you are going to send inappropriate messages, at least spell them right!

Baby comes to visit

I'm babysitting a baby today.

The last time I spent four consecutive hours with a baby by myself was eight years ago. That's a long time. But I'm excited. I think this is how being a grandmother might feel.

Baby comes.
Najla babbles like an idiot with baby.
Najla feeds cute baby.
Baby naps.
Baby wakes up.
Baby cries.
Fussy baby goes home.

I announced to my boys this morning that their mother was going to spend part of her day babysitting a baby.

Zach: Uh... is said baby going to be here for an extended period of time?

Me: Her name is Freya. She's a girl. She's staying for several hours.

Zach: I'll be referring to the baby as an "it."

Zayd: Will she be here when we get home?

Me: No.

Zayd: Thank God.

Ethan: Are you babysitting because you miss holding a baby like when we were babies?

Me: Well, I do miss holding a baby, but I'm doing this because a friend needed my help.

Ethan: Will I get to see the baby?

Me: No. I don't think you'll be home in time.

Ethan: Dang.

Zach: Are you qualified to take care of said baby?

Me: I believe I am.

Zach gives me a look that clearly questions this response.

Evan enters the scene late.

Evan: I heard you're watching a baby today.

Me: Yes.

News travels fast.

Evan: Love the way we are the last to find out about these things. Just like your trip to New York. Had to find out on Facebook.

I didn't realize that I had to run my activities by my sons before I proceeded to tell whomever I wanted to tell. Is this going to get worse as they get older?

Evan: Are you nervous?

Me: No - I'm looking forward to it.

Evan: Yeah. Will we get to see it?

Me: It's a she.

Evan: Will we get to see her?

Me: I don't think so.

Evan: Oh. That's too bad.

pause

Evan: What about Mollie?

Me: I'll keep her in her kennel if she is a problem.

Ethan: Are they going to pay you?

Me: They want to but I told them I wouldn't accept it.

pause

Ethan: That's because you're so nice.

Worst news on Prairiewood Drive

This morning, Ethan, Mollie and I took a jaunt around our neighborhood on Prairiewood Dr. Ethan road the new bike he got for his birthday this past week.

Ethan: Mom. I have the worst news ever for Prairiewood. I mean, it sucks. It just sucks.

Me: What happened.

Ethan: You aren't going to believe this. It is bad news. Are you ready for the bad news?

Me: I'm ready.

Ethan: You know that big bump in the sidewalk? The biggest bump on the sidewalk in all of Prairiewood?

Me: Yup. I know the bump you are talking about.

Ethan: Well... it's gone. It's all gone. The biggest bump on Prairiewood is gone.

Me: What happened?

Ethan: It just disappeared! Gone!

Me: You mean someone fixed it?

Ethan: Yes. They fixed it! That was the best bump ever. It was such a fun bump mom and it was the biggest one.

Me: Oh no. Yeah. That was a great bump.

Ethan: I'm going to miss that bump. I loved that bump.

Green is Good

Me: Do you like the color orange?

Ethan: Oh yes! Orange used to be my favorite color and now it is my second favorite color. Because my new favorite color is green.

Me: Why?

Ethan: (very seriously) Because green is good and green is the color of everything and green means go and green is God.

Me: Green is God?

Ethan: Yeah! Just look!

He points outside.

Me: Where?

Ethan: Look at the tree branches. See? They're green.

Me: Ahhh. Green is good.

Ethan: ... and God.

Soft and squishy

There was a lot of lovin' from the boys when I put them to bed last night. I walked in and sat on Ethan's bed where he promptly put his arms around my neck, pulled me close to him and took a deep whiff of my neck.

Ethan: Oh my goodness! You smell beautiful! Your perfume is beautiful!

Me: Why thank you Ethan.

Ethan: Wait, come back here. 

He pulls me back down again and nestles his face in my neck. Another deep whiff...

Ethan: I love your smells mom. You smell beautiful.

I touch his cheek with my hand...

Ethan: MOM! Your hand is so soft!

Okay this is kinda getting weird.

Me: Well, I put on some lotion before I came in... maybe it's that.

Ethan: It's so soft. 

Next thing I know, Ethan is poking his finger at my belly button area.

Ethan: Is it my fault that you are squishy and soft here?

Okay - so I need to explain where that came from. A while back Ethan noticed my squishy belly. He found it funny and probably a little odd.

Ethan: Why are you so squishy mom? Dad isn't as squishy as you!

Me: I'm squishy because of you and your brothers. Each time I had another baby, my belly stretched out more... 

Ethan: So I made you the most squishy?

Me: Yup.

Apparently that bothered him because at bedtime last night...

Ethan: I'm sorry I made you squishy mom. 

Mom: Oh my gosh, I don't want you to be sorry sweet face! 

Ethan: Why?

Me: I like my squishy belly. It reminds me of when you and your brothers were in my tummy and how happy I was to have each of you!

Ethan: So you aren't mad I made you squishy?

Me: No. Never. I would be sad if it wasn't squishy.

Ethan: Thank you mom. I love you.

I saw; then sawed

I was taking the dog for a walk this morning and passed by my neighbor who is a carpenter. As I continue my remodeling mania - I've been thinking about removing some spindles that are between by living and ex-dining room.

My husband swears these spindles are holding the wall up...

I'm pretty sure Paul is lying to avoid a project. So I ask Matt to stop over.

Matt says the spindles are not holding the wall up.

That's all I need. I get to work taking out the spindles. I shuffled through all of Paul's tools in the shop and find these two items. One is clearly a saw, the other has a blade that cuts through stuff... but I'm not sure what it is, or why the blade isn't a complete circle.

Whatever. I started with the hand saw. After about 10 minutes, I decided it was taking too long and my hands were hurting. I pull out the other saw/blade/thing. Evan promptly stops me and says:

Evan: Mom. I don't think that is for wood. I think it is for metal.

Me: Well, if it cuts through metal it'll cut through wood, right?

Evan: Yeah, but you'll ruin the blade.

Ruin the blade? The razor I use to shave my legs needs replacing ever few weeks - surely we can buy a new blade for this thing?

Ta DA! It worked! My GOD I love this electric thing! I've never used an electric tool besides a drill... but my new favorite electric thing is this half-circle saw!

Even better, the boards that the spindles were connected to were just nailed to the drywall. Two nails. That's it!

I just pulled them right out.

Then I vacuumed up, took the spindles to the shop, and walked away. All in all, a 1/2 hour of work to finally saw off four large thorns in my side.

Now... I'm wondering how hard it would be to smash those half-walls out of the way... Tell me what you think?

Funky rug or shiny grass?

Now that I am a stay-at-home working mom, I have been a one-woman remodel/redecorating machine. I just finished painting and tiling the mudroom...Pics to come...

One of my favorite areas of the house is our sunroom/eating area addition. It is bright and happy and the perfect place to read the paper and drink a cup of coffee or visit with friends. It's been in need of a rug. I could kick myself because I found the perfect one a couple weeks ago in Minneapolis at Home Goods --part of the TJ Maxx group. I didn't buy it. I drove out the parking lot and "forgot" to do that. Seriously. How does someone forget to buy a rug?

Today I was at Scheels Home and Hardware -  just 2 minutes from my house which I LOVE but my husband... well... it makes him nervous. Unfortunately, the Scheels website does not have any pictures of their Home and Hardware location..but let me assure you - it is fabulous! They have gorgeous furniture and decor. Even better is their customer service. Each department; paint, hardware, decor, lawn and garden, and clothing; have experts who really know their stuff.

I brought home this rug today for my sunroom. I was told if I didn't love it, I could bring it back. It was much brighter looking in the store, and has a silky sheen to it. It was super reasonable... and it feels great to the touch...

And Mollie took to it right away...

But I'm not sure I love it. And when I spend money on things, I want to love it. What do you think?

Hmmmm.....

I'm Bored Jar

Ethan and Zayd have spent the last four weeks -- 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., Monday through Thursday -- at the community theater rehearsing for their performance of "Disney's Aladdin for Kids." I have picked them up each day and listened to every song and line in this musical hundreds of times; I know the blocking; frankly I could be the alternate for any of the parts - including the street rats. And while somedays I wanted to poke my eyes out from the endless Aladdin chatter in the car, bedroom, laudary room, restuarants, and through the bathroom door -- nothing compares to what I am about to endure:

"I'm bored."

Ethan said it to me for the first time a couple of days ago and I thought to myself: Life is over as you know it. Before I could start crying, an idea popped into my head:

An "I'm bored jar."

I've been reading a lot of crafty/mom-type blogs lately and I recently came across this idea. Get a glass jar and fill it with slips of paper with ideas of what the kids do when they say they are bored. Brilliant. Let's do it. I show Ethan some of the things I had read about it on the computer.

Here are a couple I'm Bored Jars I found:

From Stephanie in her Somewhat Simple blog:

From a blog called Home Spun Threads:

First let me say that I really enjoy reading these two blogs. The things they come up with and put together are so cute!

But, guess what? I am not the bored one. And, while I enjoy feeling inferior while reading these blogs, I will not put myself through the hell of actually realizing I am inferior by attempting to make such perfect pieces of art out of pickle jars.

So I explained the overall premise of the I'm Bored Jar to Ethan and sent him on his way to make it on his own. He showed up every couple of minutes with questions like "Where are the scissors? Where can I find a jar? How can I color the jar? I'm hungry because I am working so hard. Can I have a sandwich?

With the exception of the sandwich - I made him hunt for stuff and figure the rest out. It took him the entire morning to create his I'm Bored Jar.

Ethan, 7, concentrating on not being bored.

Then it was time to fill it with ideas.

Ethan: I'm going to put, "Play a board game with Mom."

Me: Oh noooo. These things have to be things that don't need me or money involved.

Ethan: Go to the pool?

Me: That involves me. I would have to keep an eye on you.

Ethan: Play in the sandbox?

Me: There you go!

A few hours later Zach announced that he too did not want to be involved in the "I'm Bored Jar."
Apparently Ethan had put in a slip that said, "Follow Zach" - or something to that effect.

Zach: Okay - he put in there, "Play with Zach" and he's been following me around. I refuse to be part of the Jar.

Me: Then help him come up with some ideas.

That suggestion was a mistake.

Zach: Write down... Bet on horse racing.

Ethan: Okay!

I hear Ethan slowly repeating the phrase: Bet on horse racing.

Zach: And... how about... go clubbing.

Me: Zach! Don't do that to him!

Ethan: Gooooooooooo cllubbbbbbbbinnnnnng. What else?

Zach: Organize a 5k fun run/walk for rabies.

wth?

Ethan: I don't know how to spell that.

Zach obligingly helps him spell it out.

At no point does Ethan ask what any of these mean, which I find troubling.

Zach: Organize a gang.

Me: Okay - this is not funny. Don't tell him to do that.

Ethan: Orgaaaaaannnnizzzzze a gggaannnnnng.

Me: Come on Zach! Help him come up with good ideas.

Zach: I think these are all very good.

pause

Zach: Make a documentary of mom's day.

Ethan: How do I do that?

Zach: You just follow her around with the camera all day and video tape everything she does.

Ethan: Oh! Okay!

He writes that down too.

Zach: My work here is done.

He goes to the basement to play video games.

A few minutes later I hear Ethan.

Ethan: I'm bored. Oh! I'll pick out something from the I'm bored jar!

pause

Ethan: Bet on horse racing!

pause

Ethan: Mmmmoooooooommmmmmm! How do I bet on horse racing?

Circle of life

Zayd and Ethan are watching me sort laundry in my bedroom.

Me: These are yours Zayd, right? (holding up a pair of tighty whiteys)

Zayd: Oh my God no!

Me: Oh. I thought you wore these.

Zayd: No mom. I wear boxers now.

Me: Now?

Zayd: Yes. I graduated to boxers.

Me: Ooh-kaay...

Zayd: First you wear briefs... then you wear boxer briefs, then you wear boxers...

Me: I didn't know that.

Zayd: Yeah.

pause

Zayd: And then when you think about it it really goes like this... first you wear diapers, then briefs, then boxer briefs, then boxers then boxer briefs, briefs and finally diapers again.

pause

Zayd: It's the life cycle of underwear.

A quarter of appreciation

Yesterday our cleaning lady was here, tackling the Amundson abode. I always feel better knowing I've got someone who comes to bleach the place down once every two weeks.

Sharon is around 65 years old. A sweet midwestern lady who swims in her pool everyday in the summer, and knows how to bake some amazing Christmas goodies. She also loves to chat.

Ethan also loves to chat.

He was chattin' it up with her about the storm that passed through the day before, the damage it caused around town, the four quarters he had in his pocket, the tooth he pulled out and the one that he can't get out, the garage sale we plan on having, and the play he is in...

And one more...

Ethan: Sharon. Do you want one of my quarters?

Sharon: Well thank you! But I don't need a quarter.

Ethan: But do you want it?

Sharon: No. I don't want it. You keep it. You never know when you might need a quarter.

Ethan: Well... I want you to have it.

Sharon: You are so nice to offer it Ethan. But I think your mom gave you the quarter.

Ethan: I know. But I want to give it to you.

pause

Ethan: I have three other quarters.

Sharon: Honey, that is really nice. But I don't want to take your quarter. Someday you might want to buy something and you'll think, 'Darn it. I wish I had one more quarter."

Ethan: But Sharon... you are working so hard cleaning our house.

pause

Ethan: It's a tip.

Bedtime break

Paul and I were out with another couple last night - Zach was in charge of the critters back at the ranch.

We got home around 10 p.m. (I know, we're just crazy party animals). As soon as we walk in the door...

Zayd: Hi Mom and Dad!

Strike one. Zayd is still awake.

Me: What are you doing up?

Zayd: I wanted to wait for you to put me to bed.

I come into the kitchen and see Zach in the hallway, trying to pick the lock to the guest bathroom.

Me: Who locked the door?

Zach: I have no idea. And I am injuring myself trying to pick this lock.

Me: Let Zayd get it. (Zayd is a master at picking locks). Zayd! Will you come and unlock the bathroom door for us please?

Zayd comes to the rescue.

Me: Where is Evan and Ethan?

Zach: In bed.

Me: You put Ethan to bed.

Zach: Yes. I put Ethan to bed.

Me: Okay. Thanks.

I head up the stairs to check on Ethan. I walk into his bedroom...

...and Ethan is not there.

After a nano-second of confusion... I head back down the stairs to ask my "sitter" where exactly he put my youngest son to bed.

Me: Zach? Where is Ethan?

Zach: He's in bed.

Me: Uh. No. No. He is not in bed. Where is Ethan?

Zach: I put him in bed.

Now I'm panicked. I'm panicked because as a toddler, Ethan used to hide from us in the house and no matter how many times we would call for him, he would not answer. It sometimes would take five of up to 10 minutes to find him... a lifetime when you are looking for your child. This incident took me right back to those days...

Zayd then offers in a sing-songy voice...

Zayd: I think I know where Eeethhhannnn iiiis!

Me: Where?!

Zayd: Here. In the bathroom.

O.M.G.

What the hell is Ethan doing in a locked bathroom, and how long has he been in there, and why doesn't Zach know he is in there?

We both peer in.

Then we both peer down.

Ethan is on the floor. Motionless.

I panic.

He's dead. I'm sure of it. My oldest son has left my youngest son to die on the bathroom floor. We can only open the door a couple inches because the bathroom isn't very big, and Ethan is lying on his side - taking up all available floor-space that isn't being taken up by the toilet.

Zayd starts laughing.

Zayd: He's asleep!

Thank you God.

I reel around and look at Zach.

Me: How is it that you didn't know your brother was in the bathroom!?

Zach: I put him to bed!

Me: You actually put him to bed?!

Zach: Yes!

Me: So you made sure he put on his jammies, you tucked him in and you saw him asleep in bed?

pause

Zach: Well... no. But I went up there with him and he said he was going to bed.

Me: Urghh. Zach!

Zach: I didn't know he'd come back down!

I turn back to the bathroom where Ethan is still lying motionless on the floor.

Me: Ethan... Ethan... Wake up. Wake up honey.

Zayd and I end up having to nudge the door against Ethan a few times to wake him up. When he does wake up, he looks totally confused.

Me: Honey! What were you doing asleep in the bathroom!?

Ethan: Huh?

Me: Why were you in the bathroom?

Ethan: I didn't want to go to bed without Zayd.

I sprouted at least a dozen more gray hairs.

Jimmies

It's late. Paul, Evan, Zayd, Ethan and I are in the car coming home from a long evening at a hotel pool where the boys swam almost nonstop for three hours.

Zayd: Uh. Mom? Don't you want to talk to Evan about something?

Me: I do?

Zayd: Eh hm... yes. You do. Swim trunks?

Me: Oh! I thought you didn't want me to say anything.

Evan: I did not pull down your swim trunks Zayd. It was an accident.

Zayd: Ohhh. Riiiight. It was an accident.

Evan: They didn't even come down very far.

Zayd: Yes they did! They came down all the way!

Evan: Zayd! No way! I was just holding on to you when we were going down the slide and they pulled down just a little.

Zayd: Uhhh... You pulled them down so my Jimmies were showing.

pause

Me: Your WHAT? (I turn to Paul) Did he say jimmies? What are jimmies?

I figured this must be another boy-term that I am totally out of the loop on...

Paul bursts out laughing and so does Evan... Ethan just starts laughing because everyone else is.

Paul: What are you talking about Zayd?

Zayd: My Jimmies. That is what Chase and I call it. (Chase is his friend)

Evan: Okay. So Jimmies must be either butt or testes.

Paul: Well, there's a big difference between those two things.

Me: Why are we calling anything Jimmies?

Zayd: It's testes.

Evan: You call your testicles Jimmies?

Zayd: Yes. It sounds better. So... like... if I get kicked I can say, "Whoa. You kicked me in the Jimmies."

Excitment = poop

I'm on the computer in the kitchen when Ethan comes in from outside doing a combination prance-like duck waddle.

He prances waddles right up to me.

Ethan: Did you know that when I get excited I have to poop?

Me: No. Wow. Interesting.

Ethan: Yeah.

Me: So, you must be excited?

Ethan: No.

pause

Ethan: Well... actually yes.

Me: Ah.

He walks away into the guest bathroom and shuts the door.

A few minutes later, he emerges.
 
Ethan: Uh... mom? The toilet is clogged.

pause

Ethan: I was pretty excited.